sometimes simon cowell
I’m watching ‘Three Sisters’. Morning syndication at its best. The middle blonde is reminiscing. Ooohing and aahhing about the day she fell in love. The absolute moment she just knew. She fell the second she lay eyes on him. He fell three months later, as he watched her eat a pepper off the floor.
My absolute moment came while packing for the redeye. In the middle of socks, suitcases and filthy timberland boots. The smell of clean laundry and the scent that’s just him. In a mad rush it hit me. Wham! Just like that. I knew.
But when did it hit him? I ask, because I never have before: “Love. The exact moment you fell. When was it?”
He doesn’t lift his eyes from the paper. He doesn’t put down his coffee cup. “Well I didn’t really fall,” he says “It was more like a gradual downward slide.”
(And he wonders why I sometimes call him Simon Cowell.)
“What I mean darling,” He looks at me and smiles. “Is I’m still falling. Every day.”